Drabbles and Gifts 2010 thru 2013
by SubtlePen
Summary: Gift Ficlets and 100-word drabbles written to prompts, pairings and POVs provided by my twitter followers. All genres. Like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get, but it will probably taste good. Rated M just to be safe.
1. Ground Frost

Tweeted by: (at)DarkiraFF on 4/20/2010

Prompt: **Ground Frost**

Pairing/POV: Seth

Rated: T

~*~

It sparkled in the morning light where the sun hadn't touched; one side powdery white, the other dark with damp. I put my bare hand over the carving, absently brushing away a year's worth of dirt and leaves from his name. I knew he wasn't here, below this stone, below this cold dirt. He left his body here, but he'd moved on and joined our elders, keeping watch. Still, part of me liked touching it. I could almost hear his voice, yelling me out of bed to go fishing on a chilly morning like this one. It made me smile.

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A/N the first of my twitter-prompt drabbles! Thank Darkira for the prompt, and look for her story, Brand New Start.


	2. Lobsters

Tweeted by: (at)Lobsters4ever1 on 4/20/2010

Prompt: **Lobsters**

Pairing/POV: (unspecified, but I picture human Bella and Edward)

Rated: T

~*~

She smiled, rubbing her hands in obvious delight when the waitress brought her meal.

"How can you…"

"What?" she said, daring me. I held my tongue as long as I could, but the first sickening crunch did me in.

"They're basically just enormous underwater _bugs_. You know that, right?"

She looked me square in the eye, took a bite, and slowly licked the butter from her fingers. "Mmmm. Big, sweet, delicious bugs."

I watched her crack the other claw and suck out the meat, more butter dripping from her lips to her chin.

Maybe lobster wasn't so bad, after all.

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A/N thank Lobsters1128 for the deee-licious prompt, and look for her stories!


	3. Deep

Tweeted by: (at)Dannie7786 on 4/20/2010

Prompt: **Deep**

Pairing/POV: Edward/Jasper (SLASH WARNING)

Rated: M

~*~

I felt his breath on my neck, his lips on my skin. I pressed back against him, craving more, always more.

"Jasper," I said, my voice a ragged whisper.

I felt his tongue, then his teeth, as he kissed and bit his way across my shoulder. "You feel so good, baby."

I kissed him in response, adequate words failing me.

He shifted position slightly, adjusting, keeping me close, with incredible strength and tenderness in the same gesture. The sounds of breath and colliding bodies filled my ears as I braced against his powerful movements, all the while welcoming him deeper.

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A/N ohhh, yeah. give the love to Domward's Mistress for this prompt, and go read Mergers & Acquisitions and Landslide....


	4. Risky

Tweeted by: (at)LetMeSign1901 on 4/20/2010

Prompt: **Risky**

Pairing/POV: Bella/Jasper

Rated: M

~*~

My brother was in love with a fool; a reckless, naïve fool that lacked any instinct for self-preservation. As much as I wanted to deserve her trust, wanted the others to believe me worthy, I knew she would eventually tempt me past my limit. Bella approached the lunch table and I braced myself. She touched my shoulder and smiled, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I grimaced, feeling the warmth of her hesitant touch, smelling the blood that coursed just beneath the surface of her pale skin. My mouth watered. My teeth were less than a foot from her throat…

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A/N I love me a little DangerSper. Thank LetMeSign for this one, and go check out The Daily Grind, Marble and Mahogany, or (my fave) Scars are Souvenirs You Never Lose...


	5. Anticipation

Tweeted by: (at)rmhaleff on 4/20/2010

Prompt: **Anticipation**

Pairing/POV: Jasper/Seth

Rated:

~*~

"You want this, bad."

He stayed just beyond reach, taunting, knowing I wasn't above begging. I could almost feel it between my legs…

"Jesus, yes, Jasper. Come on." I squirmed, desperate for it, knowing that he wasn't done toying with me yet.

"You like it fast, don't you?"

I gritted my teeth. "Please…"

He tapped it against his leg, knowing my eyes were glued there. "You sure you're ready to ride this monster, Seth?"

I was just about ready to say fuck it, when he gave in.

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"Don't get a ticket." The key for his Ducati landed in my lap.

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A/N heh. yeah, what did you think i was gonna write? ya pervs. *giggle* now, if that got your whistle wet, go read RMHale's stories.... *swoon*


	6. Subtlety

Tweeted by: antiaol on 4/20/2010

Prompt: **Subtlety**

Pairing/POV: Edward/Bella (EPOV)

Rating: T

~*~

Banner started handing out slides, describing today's lesson. He droned about voluntary and involuntary muscle types, central versus parasympathetic nerves, smooth versus striated. He gave Bella and I each our own set, the glass plates rattling mutely as he placed them on the desk. He talked us through each of them, giving us time to switch samples and refocus our microscopes.

"The next muscle type is unique," he continued.

"I don't think I have this one," she whispered, leaning close.

I flipped through my box and handed her the one marked cardiac.

"Here," I said, smiling. "You can have mine."

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A/N I squeed when you tweeted me this prompt - hope you like, Bri. Contrary to my fic name, i'm better at blatant than subtle.

hey - go read AntiAOL's new fic, Somewhere Between Crimson and Blue. and please, for the love of Edward, tell me you've already read Library Rendezvous!


	7. Hullabaloo

Tweeted by: dipityseren

Prompt: **Hullabaloo**

Pairing/POV: Emmett

Rating: T

~*~

Rose whined "do I really have to do this?"

"Just get on with it." She always bitched when it was her turn. We were losing, but a game was a game.

Edward and Bella looked smug, so I knew it was bad. Rose started doing all this crazy shit, flailing around, covering her ears like she was in the middle of a riot… and I knew what it was.

"HULLABALOO!" I shouted, and Rose jumped into my arms, squealing.

Edward just stared at me, gaping.

"Hey, you're the one that bought me that damn word-a-day calendar, asshole. Suck it up."

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A/N Seren Dipity has been pimpin me like Huggy Bear lately, and i love her for it. I hope you like my CharadeMett drabble, bb... xox


	8. Fluke

Tweeted by: naelany on 4/20/2010

Prompt: **Fluke**

Pairing/POV: SLASH (any)

Rating: M

~*~

Edward downed the cougar, all liquid grace and efficiency. Seeing him give in to his lusts, knowing how rigidly controlled he was around Bella, did something to me.

I ran to his side and pressed my mouth next to his on the cougar's throat, suddenly desperate to be closer, to touch him, to share his kill as a lover would.

He leapt away, appalled, eyes bulging. I pushed the carcass aside, stunned by my own actions.

"Dude – I – I don't know what got into me."

He squinted, searching my thoughts for truth. After a moment, he nodded and fled alone.

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A/N Nae, as always, I am at your feet. xoxox


	9. Pink

Tweeted by: this was a prompt i wrote to for the Lazy Yet Discerning Ficster "Drabble Scrambler" game on April 19, 2010

Prompt: **PINK**

Pairing/POV: AH Emmett POV (with Edward)

Rating: M

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"You'll fuck anything that doesn't run away."

I smiled, curious if the comment was driven by righteous indignation, or jealousy. "And?"

"You're a fucking slut! Have you considered looking for more than just another piece of ass?"

I shrugged, getting a kick out of seeing him get himself all worked up.

"Asians, Latinas, barbies, book nerds, hell, I bet you've fucked an Eskimo."

I had to laugh. I'd yet to bag an Eskimo. I wondered if his cousin from Alaska would count. What it all boiled down to, though, was one simple thing:

.

"It's all pink on the inside, Edward."

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A/N i kinda love slutty, crude Emmett... a tiny bit of inspiration for this was Tyler's roommate Aiden in Remember Me. *grin*

check out TLYDF: **discerningficster dot blogspot dot com**


	10. Backseat Shamestick

Tweeted by anntastic23 on 5/6/2010

Prompt: **Backseat/Shamestick**

Pairing/POV: Bella/Edward from the "Ducky and Stick Go Camping" universe.

Rated: T

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Dad looked in the rearview mirror and I was mortified. Can he tell? Can _she_? What the _frack_ is with my body?

She snored a little, then _ohmygod_ snuggled even closer, burrowing her freckled cheek against my shoulder.

I turned to look at her, catching my dad in the mirror again with a goofy smile on his face. I pretended to look out her window, but stuck my nose where her ponytail bunched up against the seat.

_Strawberries?_

I pressed my palms together and wedged them tightly between my knees, praying I wouldn't have to stand up before it deflated.

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A/N apparently, 'shamestick' has a couple of meanings, including a stick of butter coated in sugar (as a snack?) or an unwelcome erection you hope to hide... And poor Stick (approx 12 years old?) certainly wants to hide this one from Ducky. Anne, i love you for this prompt. Check out my one-shot "Ducky and Stick Go Camping, More or Less" for a tiny bit more of these life-long friends.


	11. Challenged

Tweeted by: (at)naelany on 4/23/2010

Prompt: **challenged**

Pairing/POV: Edward

Rating: T

~x~x~x~

I'd _never_ felt anything like it in my existence. She strode through the door, shy and awkward, her mind silent to me. I was dazed by her very existence, terrified by her power over me. The entire class was oblivious to my overwhelming urge to seize and devour her. The words _desire_, _lust_ and _thirst_ seemed trite and wholly inadequate. No scent had ever enticed me so, or been as compelling as hers. Decades spent subjugating my base instincts, honing my focus and self denial, could never have prepared me for _her_. I counted the moments remaining until my escape.

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A/N love you, Nae.


	12. Recall

Tweeted by: (at)naelany on 4/23/2010

Prompt: **recall**

Pairing/POV: Bella

Rating: T

~x~x~x~x~

I sat, week after week, numb to everything around me. Initially they thought something happened in the woods, something horrible and vile, that he had hurt me in some tangible way, and fled. Eventually, they dismissed it all as some tragic crush gone awry, which made it easier for them to pity me. Before long, there was only Charlie. We existed in the same space, but without interaction. I didn't have the energy. Every ounce of it was spent willing Edward to return, my heart calling, reaching, demanding that he see, no matter the distance, that his place was here.

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A/N love you, Nae.


	13. Facet

Tweeted by: (at)naelany on 4/23/2010

Prompt: **facet**

Pairing/POV: ?

Rating: T

~x~x~x~x~

"He's my best friend."

"He has been for years. He's like another son, to us." Her voice was soft, encouraging.

"But that's not all he is." I looked away.

She took a deep breath, paused, and let it out slow, smiling. "He's good for you."

"Mom, you don't even know how good." I blushed at my accidental double entendre.

"I know that loving him doesn't define you. You are a complicated man, and your relationship with him is just part of what makes you who you are."

I beamed, relieved. "He's the part that makes all the other parts shine."

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A/N love you, Nae.


	14. Touch

Tweeted by: (at)mariannpalmer on 5/6/2010

Prompt: **Touch**

Pairing/POV: EPOV

Rated: T

~x~x~x~x~

Fingertips on piano keys. The impact of ball meeting glove. Gliding silk on a shapely leg. Grasping the steering wheel of a precision auto. Sand and surf beneath wandering feet. A doctor's healing intervention. A pen in hand, transcribing thoughts, melody. Raindrops tickling lashes.

Such simple things to take for granted. Fleeting sensations, casual observations easily overlooked. Countless times a day, we touch and are touched.

None had the power of her warm, soft palm on my cheek; the tender touch of a woman, generous and brave, sharing her care with me, cold and unworthy. I craved her touch, always.

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A/N thank you for the beautiful prompt, mariann!


	15. Flimsy

Tweeted by (at)ICMezzo on 5/6/2010

Prompt: ** Flimsy**

Pairing/POV: Edward (Bella)

Rated: M

~x~x~x~x~

She wound the length of silk around my wrists and bound me to the bed. I played along, letting her enjoy the fantasy. My body was her plaything, and I loved it. I tested the strength of my restraints, and she scolded me.

"If you escape, I'll have to punish you."

"Yes, Mistress."

She smiled and stood from the bed, licking her lips, taunting me, slowly removing her gauzy black negligee.

She lowered herself onto me, teasing me with rolling hips and soft moans, torturing me beyond my limits. No shackles existed that could contain this need, punishment be damned.

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A/N i LOVE a touch of DomElla!! thank you for the prompt! you got 3 flimsies in one - the bondage, her negligee, and E's control (and a bonus - her weak threat!). hope you like!


	16. Abstract

Tweeted by (at)breeze1213 on 5/6/2010

Prompt: **Abstract**

Pairing/POV: JPOV (Edward)

Rated: T

~x~x~x~x~

I tried again, but I couldn't. He was physically beautiful, supple, athletic. Vivid eyes, and an engaging smile. Even if I was blinded tomorrow, if he lost all that, it wouldn't change a thing.

Everything he was to me; my lover, my best friend, eluded definition. It radiated from within, primal and insistent. I needed him in my life, needed his passion, his kindness, honesty and faithfulness, his sense of justice, his devotion. Listing pretty words wasn't enough.

How do you explain love?

"Don't bother, babe. It just is." He kissed me, and pulled me into his arms once more.

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A/N this was a toughie! Breeze made me work for it!


	17. Superfluous

Tweeted by (at)ahizelm1 on 5/6/2010

Prompt: **Superfluous**

Pairing/POV: Male POV (Jasper/Bella)

Rated: T

~x~x~x~x~

Her fingers fluttered against her lips. A tear fell and I wanted to brush it away, but was about to lose the moment, and my nerve. I opened the little box, tiny diamond glinting. "I will love you with everything I am, forever."

Her tears flowed freely, her breath soft gasps. I began to worry.

"Bell," I babbled, "I know you're scared, and it won't be easy… You're my best friend, my lover, everything. I'll take care of us, find us a little house, take that job my dad…"

"Jas," she whispered, touching my face. "All I need is you."

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A/N xoxox, Ang. {{{hug}}}

and all y'all? Make sure you're reading AHelm's Whiskey at Midnight, and Ink Street... *sigh*


	18. Naivete

Tweeted by (at)HMonster04 on 5/6/2010

Prompt: **Naivete**

Pairing/POV: Edward (Bella)

Rated: T (but sorta M)

~x~x~x~x~

I'd seen and heard foul, debauched things, and drank the blood of murderers and rapists in a perverse brand of vigilante justice. From dank alleyways to suburban civility, I'd overheard the thoughts of lovers and assailants, inundated with their prurient cravings. Still, here I stood, before my precious bride, fearful at the thought of touching and being touched.

I possessed a perfect form, was a godly specimen of manhood by any measure, unable to feel pain or fatigue, yet untouched. My existence was the cruelest dichotomy: soiled of mind, pure of body.

At least in our chastity, we were equals.

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A/N kisses to Heather...

and all y'all better have already read Deconstructing Dracula and Breakfast at Tiffany's....


	19. Honey Loose

Tweeted by (at)miztrezboo on 5/6/2010  
Prompt: **Honey/Loose**  
Pairing: Rosalie/Jasper  
Rated M

~x~x~x~x~

Jasper and Rosalie were in the kitchen, and I could hear them from the front door.

"Try harder, dammit. I need it!" _She's moaning?_

"It's too tight, babe." _Sooo did not need to know that._

"Here, maybe if you twist…" _Twist how?_

"Fuckyeah! There you go, baby!" _Shit! I'm getting hard!_

"Finally! Jesus, look at the mess you made!" _Already?_

"Hey, it's not my fault. You should have let go!" _She was holding…?_

"I didn't know it would go everywhere! Shit – my shirt's all sticky now." _God, no._

I cleared my throat. "Um, guys, if you're going to be… can you please keep it …. I mean, I have to cook in there tonight."

Rosalie barreled around the corner, loaf of bread in one hand, and a jar of peanut butter in the other. "Hey Edward. What are you talking about?"

I couldn't look her in the eye. I waved my hand in the general direction of where I though they'd just done the deed. "I, um, heard you guys, and wondered if, maybe…"

"You want a sandwich?"

I turned corner and saw Jasper wiping up spilled honey. _What the hell was wrong with me?_

_Christ, I need to get laid._

_._

_._

_.  
_

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A/N *whistles* What? My son prefers PB&H sammiches.

heh.

drabbles are usually 100 words EXACTLY, but since she gave me two prompts, i decided this drabble could be 200 words....

Hey, Boo? I loves ya. Hard, fast, and frequently. And everyone should read Where the Road Meets the Sun. For reals.


	20. Cardboard

Tweeted by: (at)Dannie7786 on 5/30/2010

Prompt: **Cardboard**

Pairing/POV: Jasper POV (Peter)

Rated: M

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I did a double take when he came in the store, all golden smiles and effortless sexiness. He had that college student vibe to him but, in this town, most of the guys our age did: tee shirt and cargo shorts, Ray-bans, ratty flip-flops. Beneath that common exterior, though, he emanated something rare, something magnetic and undeniable that drew me in.

"Hi. Can I help you?" I was thrilled to get the words out without making an idiot of myself.

He walked up to the counter, lustfully eyeing the glass case full of high-end derailleurs and pedals. "Yeah, I need to ship my bike."

"We have several models of hard cases for about two hundred, or if you just want cardboard we can do that for you for eighty-five dollars, including shipping. Do you have the bike with you?"

"Well, yeah, but I was just hoping you had a box, like something you might be throwing away. I can pack it myself."

I was instantly sad. I didn't have the luxury to burn a lot of time helping him ship some Huffy home for the summer in a freebie box, even if he was a hot piece. We were slammed and there were paying customers in line behind him. If it had been slow, I probably would have offered to pack it up for him for nothing, just to have a chance to ask him out. "Sure. Dumpster's out back, help your self." I nodded my head in the direction of the back door, and approached the next customer.

He smiled, said thanks and ambled off. I caught sight of his ass and legs as he walked away, and swallowed hard. God, I loved what cycling did for a guy's body, even if he was probably too broke for a decent bike. One of my wrenches caught me ogling and winked at me, laughing. I rolled my eyes and went back to the line of customers waiting at the register.

About half an hour later, I finally had the store clear and we were closing up. My manager-in-training replacement, Ben, was closing out the cash registers while I made a trash run. I pushed open the back door, and found Mr. Huffy's fine ass sticking up over the rim of my dumpster, toes barely hanging on to the ground, and a hint of black lycra sticking out of the frayed hem of his cargo shorts. It made me wonder how well he filled out the skin-tight fabric, and my mouth watered. I cleared my throat, praying I didn't startle him enough to make him fall completely in.

"Need a hand?" I offered, putting a hand on his lower back to steady him as he righted himself off the lip of the dumpster.

"Yeah, thanks." He stood up, smiling, with his prize, a piece of fork padding, in his hand. "I think I have everything I need." He dropped the piece of foam into his scavenged frame box, and that's when I noticed it.

His bike.

It was the ugliest three-thousand-dollar bike I'd ever seen.

This was no fifty-buck WalMart special, or a thrift store klunker. This was a fine piece of custom Massachusetts steel-frame geometry, with high-end components and a very expensive, very custom, factory paint job: gunmetal gray blended backward to navy chain- and seat-stays. I imagined the guys in the paint shop at Indy Fab laughing when the order came through.

I stood there gawking at it, wondering how it rode. We stocked the usual stuff, decent brands, and had a few customers with high-end competition bikes, but IFs were few and far between. I had two or three nice bikes in my stable, but nothing quite like this. This bike was a serious cyclist's wet dream.

"…ride as much as I can, and now it's time to haul it back home."

I looked up, dazed, and realized he'd been talking. He was smiling at me, adjusting his backpack over his shoulders. He'd traded the flip-flips for clipless riding shoes and had his hands down the front of his pants, presumably adjusting himself in the lycra he had on under the cargo shorts, situating his boys for the ride home. I swallowed, hard.

He laughed a little, no doubt noticing where my eyes were glued. He raised his eyebrows, giving me an appreciative once-over, too. "I'm just gonna leave the box here, and come back for it in a bit. Is that okay?"

It took me a minute to gather my wits. "How long will you be? I mean, I can pull it inside the store, if you want, so it doesn't walk off. I'll be here for at least an hour doing paperwork."

"Just long enough to ride home and walk back. Half an hour?"

I pictured what a pain in the ass it would be for him to ride home, walk back here, drag the box home on foot, have to break down and pack the bike with probably minimal tools, then have to carry the whole thing somewhere else to actually ship it. "Shit, just bring the damn bike in. I'll help you pack it, and give you a ride home. That is, if you're ready to ship it right away?"

"Yeah, I'm flying home in a couple of days, so I need to get things moving pretty quick. You sure? I hate to be a pain."

"Nah, I know what it's like. I'm getting ready to move soon, too, so I can sympathize. Besides, it's not often I get to play with something like that." I nodded toward the expensive bike, leaning against his side. Conveniently, I was also nodding towards his crotch.

Yeah, so sue me. He looked like he'd be fun to play with, too, and I got the distinct impression he didn't mind the innuendo.

His smirk confirmed it.

"I imagine you've got just the right tools for the job, too."

I dumped my trash and picked up his box, smiling the whole time. "I wouldn't be worth much if I didn't. Jasper," I said, offering my hand. "You can call me Jay."

"Peter," he replied, glancing at our hands when they touched, hopefully feeling the same crackling tension I did.

**~x~x~x~**

"Hey, Jay, I think I'm - oh, hi there." Ben did a double take when he saw me bent over the small office fridge, pulling out two beers, with Peter standing at my side.

"Oh, hey Ben. You get the deposit all written up?"

"Uh, yeah. You should be good to go. I put the drawers in the safe, and the credit card tape and all that is on your desk."

He was looking back and forth between Peter and I, an odd expression on his face. "Oh, hey. Ben, this is Peter. I'm gonna help him break down and pack his bike tonight. Stay and have a beer with us?" I knew he wouldn't.

His odd expression turned into a smile. "No, we're supposed to have dinner with Ang's folks tonight. You need anything else, then?"

"Nah, have a good one. See ya, what – tomorrow?"

"Nope, I'm off tomorrow. I'll see you Tuesday."

I walked Ben out, locked up and hit the lights, leaving only the shop lit up.

Peter fiddled with cleaning his bike while I closed out the books for the day and placed a few vendor orders. By the time I was ready to help, he'd finished his beer and was half done with the bike. I finished by pulling his pedals and handlebar, and we set out to pack it all up for shipping.

As we worked, our hands brushed up against each other, lingering longer each time we handed over a different tool, followed by the occasional bump of hip on hip as we moved around his dismantled bike. He stayed close to me, speaking softly and slowly as he told me about his life, addicting me to the rhythm of his words.

I imagined that soft, low voice moaning my name, and had to discreetly adjust more than once.

"So, now that the internship is done, I'm headed back to Portland to finish my engineering degree," he said, never telling me what he planned after that.

Ironically, I was headed to Oregon too.

"How far away is Eugene?"

"Two hours or so. Depends on how big a hurry you're in to see whatever's on the other end. Why?"

I smiled, wondering if he'd ever be in a hurry to come see me. "I just finished my undergrad in journalism and am headed to grad school there."

"Is that right?" He tucked in and taped the last flap on the box, then stood close to me where I leaned against the tool bench. I nodded, looking at my feet and smiling.

"I've been known to make the trip in an hour and a half, once or twice."

I looked up, and he was smiling. "Yeah?"

He scooted closer. "When properly motivated, I can do amazing things."

"Motivated, huh?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Top, or bottom?" he asked, softly.

I slowly turned and stepped in front of him, pinning him against the bench with my hips. "Top."

I curled my hips just a bit, but his hands grabbed me and held me still. He closed his eyes and licked his smirking lips, but nothing more. After a minute of silence, feeling our cocks hardening between us, he finally spoke. "You ready to give me that ride home?" The lazy grin on his face told me all I needed to know about how to properly motivate him.

"I need a shower," I said. "I smell like hand cleaner and chain lube."

He smiled widely and loosened his grip on my hips, swirling his thumbs under the edge of my waist band. "I think I can handle that."

I hoped so.

Ten minutes later, I had him pinned against his front door, fingers in his hair and tongue in his mouth. I wasn't hesitant or gentle, and he kept up with no trouble.

He fumbled with the lock and we stumbled through the door when it fell open, all grabby hands and hot mouths. He flicked on a light and dragged me down the hall to his bathroom. We broke apart only when he pulled off his shirt and turned away to get the shower started.

I'd managed to strip bare by the time he turned back to me. His hands were all over me, pinching, squeezing, exploring, as I worked to get rid of his layers. When I finally had him naked and pulled tight against me from shoulder to knee, something clicked – some strange déjà vu thing – and we both just stopped for a minute, listening to the water and each others breathing.

"Wow," was all I could say.

He smiled. "You feel good."

"So do you." He was perfect. Perfect height, perfect build, perfect everything. I didn't feel like I was about to break some little twink in half, or about to be mauled by an over-eager oaf. We just – fit. I didn't have to bend up or down to kiss him, didn't have to tell him how to touch me, and he responded beautifully to everything I did.

He backed into the shower, pulling me along. I didn't need much encouragement. He got wet, then spun us around so that I was under the spray. He took his time, which was surprising given the urgency that had brought us this far. He lathered my hair, scrubbed me from nose to toes, and stood back while I rinsed, watching the path my hands took over my body. I kissed him and switched places, returning the favor as best I could. My cock was more than ready, sticking straight out as I watched globs of soap and shampoo slide down his rock-hard body.

He turned his back to me to rinse his face one last time, and it was all I could do not to slide right into him there in the shower. I stood behind him, running my hands up and down his sweet, round ass, until he pressed it back against me, grinding softly, letting his head rest on my shoulder.

"Oh fuck, Jay."

"I'd love to," I said, licking his ear.

He moaned and shut off the water. Sliding the door open, he grabbed two towels and handed one to me, but I was too impatient to be thorough. I rubbed myself down hastily, and pulled him back into the hallway toward what I assumed was the bedroom. He laughed and wiggled out of my grasp, smacking me on the ass as he pushed past me, his body sparking with lingering water droplets from our shower. He turned on the only light – a round paper lantern hung over a large futon mattress on the floor. The room was neat and tidy, but the only furniture was a small, plain dresser. His closet door was open, empty but for several dark suits, a few dress shirts still wrapped from the dry cleaner, black dress shoes and a couple of pieces of luggage.

His easy laughter brought me back to him. "You live very, um, _Spartan_ here, Peter."

"It was only a twelve-week internship, so I only brought the necessities. Rented the furniture, and bought the futon new because they're cheap. I don't spend much time here anyway. I'm either at work, or on the bike, mostly. I'm not a big one for collecting 'stuff.'"

I smiled. I was the same way. If I couldn't fit it in my truck or pack it all up in an afternoon, I didn't need it.

I stepped toward him again, eager to pick up where we'd left off. He pulled me down on the bed and kissed me, burying his fingers in my too-long hair, then exploring my body with his tongue, outlining each of the old battle scars I'd earned in my brief career as a downhill racer. He was almost too gentle, and I was anxious for more.

I quickly flipped us over, and his shocked gasp gave way to earthy moans as I kissed him, nibbling at his plump lips, palming his pecs and biceps as I rhythmically ground against him. I bit and sucked my way down his body toward his cock, taking it in without warning and earning me another gasp.

He fumbled blindly beside the bed and handed me a small bottle of lube. He whimpered as I began to prep him, laying almost motionless as I worked him over, relaxing him, opening him. "Shit, I don't have any condoms," he whispered, sounding scared and disappointed.

I stilled for a moment, doing a mental inventory of what I had with me. I hopped up from the bed and scrambled around for my pants. I sat back down beside him and opened my wallet, revealing one lone condom. I smiled, relieved, and held it up between two fingers.

"Only one?" he asked, grinning.

"I better make it good, huh?"

"I'm confident in your abilities."

I rolled the condom on, watching him as he situated himself on the bed, flat on his back.

"Ready?" I asked, hoping I already knew the answer.

He leaned up to kiss me, weaving his fingers through my hair, drawing me down, telling me yes over and over. I nestled my hips between his legs, our foreheads pressed together as we caught our breaths. He nodded and kissed me again, murmuring my name.

Those first few moments, as that tight, anxious tension slowly gave way and he accepted my intrusion, when his whole body seemed to soften and sigh, were euphoric. I'd done this before; my body remembered the sensations, knew what to expect, knew how to give and draw out pleasure. Somehow, seeing the warmth in his eyes, sinking onto them, reawakened that bloom of familiarity I'd felt as we stepped into the shower earlier, making my body sing in a way sex never had before.

He angled his hips to take me deeper, and our combined moans echoed around us. He kept one hand on my face, the other at my hip the entire time, and I was nearly undone by this simple tenderness. His warm palm on my cheek anchored my eyes to his, completing our connection. I'd never felt anything like it.

I rolled out every trick I had, moving slow and methodically until he began to plead, then speeding up for brief bursts, only to slow again and deliver single intense thrusts with a long pause between each one, watching for all the little reassuring cues that told me he loved being at my mercy. Throughout it all, between breaths, gasps and sometimes through clenched teeth, he whispered my name.

Every inch of my body wanted to be permanently fused to his. I wanted to feel his heart pounding against my chest, my hands wanted to memorize the feel of his skin, my mouth wanted to taste and consume and mark. My movements became frenzied and erratic, and I hated that it ever had to end. I dropped down to one elbow and reached between us to take him in hand, hoping we'd get a chance to do this again, that he'd come find me in Eugene, that he felt as strong a pull to me as I did to him.

His body quivered beneath me, his neck arched and his jaw slack, as I watched streaks of white color his chest, triggering my own completion. I moaned as my body twitched with each spate of my release, then laughed at myself.

He laughed with me, kissing me back to earth, catching our breath as we nuzzled, praised, touched and thanked.

After a quick cleanup, we collapsed on the bed, twined like vines grown together.

"I'm glad you needed a cardboard box today, but I wish we'd met sooner."

He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "Me moving to Oregon isn't the end of this, Jay."

I smiled, and touched his sweet face with the backs of my fingers. "No, you dope. The city picks up the cardboard recycling tomorrow. If you'd waited a day, I would never have bothered to send you dumpster diving."

"The way I felt when I first saw you, you think I'd let a lack of cardboard shut me down?"

I felt my smile would split my face. "You felt it, too?"

He kissed me, slow and deep, then buried his face in my neck. "Yeah, I felt it, too."

I fell asleep shortly after, his last words drifting through my dreams.

_"It's only ninety minutes to __Eugene__."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_

* * *

_

A/N oh, Dannie. how you managed to give me this prompt, when i've been itching to write a slashy bike shop fic for months, i will never know. bless you. i hope you liked my try at JasPeter. I know this was supposed to be a drabble, but didn't think you'd complain about 3000 words instead of a hundred.

IF and IndyFab are short for Independent Fabrications bicycles of Massachusetts. The bike i described belongs to my hubs, except his fades red to purple (he calls the hideousness 'theft insurance'). Lots of regular guys wear gel-padded lycra to bike in, but it has a bad rep if you're not a competitive road cyclist. Hubs frequently wears conventional shorts on top, which undermines the comfort of wearing tights (too many seams and pockets). Clipless cycling shoes have a cleat on the bottom that attach directly to your pedal, maximizing the energy transfer with each crank. They are expensive, and can be uncomfortable to walk in. "Clipless" refers to the absence of those old toe cages (clips) we used to have on our pedals. "Wrench" = bike mechanic. Chain-stays and seat-stays are part of the rear triangle on a bike, the two tubes that lead from the seat and the bottom bracket (crank hub) back to the rear wheel hub.

The bike shop is a real place, but sadly the slashy boys are real only in my imagination. our shop is full of delicious boys, though. that is no lie. my hubs is one of them.

I have no idea if Engineering in Portland is any good, or what Journalism grad programs are like in Eugene. We almost moved there a long time ago, and I still have a soft spot in my heart for it. I picture Peter going on to complete frame school at UBI (United Bicycle Institute) in Portland, then opening up his own custom bike business. I imagine Jasper going on to become the next Phil Liggett, Voice of the Tour De France. of course, they live out a delicious HEA together.

**cyclists know how to do it in high gear**


	21. Green

Tweeted by: (at)**starfish422** on 5/30/2010

Prompt: **Green**

Pairing/POV: Edward/Jasper (EPOV) SLASH WARNING

Rated: M

* * *

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"What color are they?"

He scratched his chin. "Right now?"

I nodded.

He cupped my chin and scooted closer, abandoning the sheet that draped his hips. I licked my lips before I could stop myself, admiring his exposed body. He looked down at himself, then slowly back at me, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Turn to the light a little"

I complied, angling my face toward the fading afternoon sun, trying not to blink.

"They're almost a grayish brown, sort of."

"Not green? Or hazel?"

He leaned in, speaking as our lips touched. "They're only green when you come."

.

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.

* * *

A/N Katie - just for you. thanks for waiting so patiently for this while real life ate my soul. xoxox

If you loved Over The Top - please go read Deep Dish, Right the hell NOW. you will fall in LOVE with Jackie... *sigh*


	22. Surplus

Tweeted by: (at)**icmezzo** on 5/30/2010

Prompt: **Surplus**

Pairing/POV: **?**/Jasper (**?**POV)

Rated: T

* * *

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.

.

Five minutes to close. I browsed the BDUs and picked out a few things to try on. The forest camo pants fit reasonably well, the olive drab shirt at least a size too small. I heard the cash register, then the front door lock.

He knocked. "You doin' okay in there?"

I opened the door, hands on hips.

He eyed me up and down, whistling, then pulled me close. "That's gonna look great on our bedroom floor."

"Better than that flight suit last week?"

I could feel him, hot and hard against my hip. "Way better than the flight suit."

.

.

.

* * *

A/N heh. Bella? Edward? Alice? your imagination is the only limit...

You all should be reading ICMezzo's "Said and Done." Really. Human/Vamp J/E Slash. Yep. and it's DAMN good.


	23. Ambrosia

Tweeted by: (at)**rmhaleff** on 5/30/2010

Prompt: **Ambrosia**

Pairing/POV: Bella/Edward (EPOV)

Rated: T

* * *

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.

.

"Ambrosia?"

"Um…" I flinched, reacting to Bella's swift kick. "Yes, thank you, Renee."

The pasty multicolor mess hit my plate, 'plop,' next to the watery-gray corn and mummified chicken. I shuddered.

"Looks great, Mom. Thanks," Bella giggled. "It's been ages since you've eaten like this, right?"

I smiled, saccharine sweet, plotting my revenge. "Ages."

"Well, you look like you could use a good meal, Edward. Eat up!"

"Did Bella mention how much she's been looking forward to your signature casserole?"

"Ooh! My salmon and peas? I can make that tomorrow!"

Bella nearly gagged, and it made my cold heart happy.

.

.

.

* * *

A/N poor vampire Edward...

xoxox lurve you, bb.

al y'all? Go read RMHale's stuff. now-ish. especially if you like things slashy.


	24. Cupcake Chef

Tweeted by: (at)**Jessypt** on 5/30/2010

Prompt: **Cupcake/Chef**

Pairing/POV: Jasper POV (Edward), from **"Simple"** (_SLASH WARNING)_

_(this works as a stand-alone one-shot, the characters are all familiar to you. however, it will mean more if you have also read my story "Simple")  
_

Rated: M

* * *

.

.

.

Rose blew out the candle as we sang, then peeled the paper off her cupcake. Licking a smear of buttercream from her thumb, she looked straight at Emmett and smiled. He rolled his eyes, and I stifled a laugh.

"I don't even know how you can think about eating that," he told her.

She cast a hard look at Em. "What? When did you become such a prude?"

Emmett laughed, eyes huge, hands flailing. "Today, when we walked in on them bent over our kitchen counter fucking, Rose!"

Rose mumbled under her breath, looking from me, to Edward, and back again. "It was hot. You know it was."

I had to look away, to keep Emmett from commenting on my blush.

Edward threw up his hands and grunted. "Aw, fuck. I'm going to bed. Happy birthday, sweetie." He kissed Rose on the forehead and squeezed her shoulder. She stood up and hugged him tight, and whispered loud enough for us all to hear.

"The buttercream was delicious, E."

Edward smiled widely and looked at me. "Thank Jas for that." He kissed her again, a quick peck on the lips, and headed for our bedroom with a smirk on his face. I wasn't far behind.

~x~x~x~

I was whisking the butter when I felt hands on my hips and little nibbles on my bare neck, above my apron strap. While the oven had been running, it was too hot for a shirt.

"Am I too late to help?"

I turned just enough to catch his lips in a sloppy kiss, trying to ignore the desire to drag him off to our bedroom. In addition to his full class schedule, he'd been working extra hours to save for a new guitar and it felt like days since we'd had any time alone.

"Cupcakes are ready, and all I have left is the frosting." I gestured over my shoulder to the kitchen table, where the cupcakes were waiting. They'd turned out nicely, and I was glad Mom had the patience to talk me through it over the phone. I was a decent enough cook, but baking had never been my strong suit. Earlier in the week, I'd watched four different videos on making buttercream, knowing Rose hated the pre-made stuff.

He dragged his hand across my ass as he walked toward the table, admiring my work. I had to shake my head at his obvious attempt to distract me.

"They look nice, babe."

"Thanks, E." I turned down the mixer and began adding half the confectioner's sugar to my softened butter. "There's an orphan there, if you want to try one." I'd flubbed filling one and it wasn't as pretty as the others, with a large dribble of overcooked batter clinging to the outside of the paper.

"This one?"

I looked up, licking a smudge of powder from my finger. "Yep." I smiled when his eyes glazed over as I licked again, more thoroughly. _Two can play this game._

He picked up the small cake and sauntered back, then leaned against the stove at my side. He toyed with the paper, peeling it back slowly, while I poured heavy cream into the mixer bowl. A little splashed on my hand, and I held it up to him. Grinning, he closed his eyes and used the tip of his tongue to taste the cream, softly moaning.

I was glad my running shorts were loose and could accommodate my growing _problem_. We hadn't had sex in almost a week, and I was eager to get him into our bed. He went back to fiddling with the cupcake, taking small bites and then breaking off tiny pieces and popping them into my mouth. I tried to catch his fingers with my lips, but he was too quick.

After the cream came more sugar, then vanilla and a pinch of salt. Finally I added just a drop or two of red food coloring, yielding a beautiful soft peachy-pink I hoped Rose would like. I turned off the mixer, satisfied with my results. He started to stick his finger in the mixing bowl, but I knocked his hand away, scowling.

"What?"

"Get your fingers out of there! You'll get a taste. Have some patience." I smiled and bumped his hip with mine.

"I want more than a damn taste," he muttered, pretending to look away but still watching me from the corner of his downcast eyes. He hopped up to sit on the counter, clunking his bare feet against the cabinet.

"Oh, there's plenty for more than just a taste, babe."

I brought the tray of cakes back to the counter. With a small spoon, I scooped up a bit of frosting and brought it too my mouth. His face drooped with disappointment. I tasted the frosting, enjoying the way it melted on my tongue, then held the spoon out to him, and he smiled. He popped it in his mouth and hummed, sucking it like a popsicle. He flipped it over so his tongue could conform to the bowl, and pulled it from his mouth, ending with his head tilted back and his lips parted. I licked my lips, wanting to taste the buttercream on his tongue.

"So good," he said, handing the spoon back to me. I deliberately grazed his crotch before taking it from him.

"Mmm hmm. Creamy and delicious," I said, running my hand up the inside of his thigh. He clamped his legs together, momentarily trapping my hand. I laughed and leaned in for a brief, but heated, kiss.

"So, what's next?" he asked, eyeing the mixer bowl. I removed it from the stand and folded the frosting once or twice with a spatula.

"Now, we frost." I handed him a second offset spatula and demonstrated how I wanted them to look. Nothing fancy, just a generous swirl of frosting on each cupcake, as neat as possible. We got through about half the cakes before he gave up, frustrated that his didn't look as good as mine.

"Fuck it. I'm done." He hopped down from the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, watching me work.

"Oh, come on. It's just a flick of the wrist, and a little twist. I know you can flick and twist."

"Flick and twist?" he asked, now standing behind me with his hands on my waist.

I nodded, concentrating on the cupcake in my hand and the glob of frosting on my spatula. "See? Flick… and twist. Easy."

I heard a soft whoosh behind me as he pulled off his shirt, then wrapped his arms around me. He pulled us close, my bare back against his chest, with his chin resting on my shoulder as he watched me frost another cupcake.

"Hmmm. Are you sure you've taught me this technique before?"

"Well, to some people it just comes naturally," I said, pushing my ass back into him. "Maybe you're just not able to master it… properly."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to practice more." One of his hands slid down to the top of my thigh and the other reached for his abandoned spatula. I held up the last cupcake up and wiggled it, waiting for him to try. He scooped up some buttercream, way more than he needed, and began to frost the cake in my hand.

"That's too much!" I said, pushing his hand back at the last minute and finishing the cake myself.

The hand on my thigh anchored me against him and I felt his complete arousal through my thin shorts and his jeans. "Too much?" He looked at his loaded spatula and brought it back toward his face for what I assumed was a big taste of buttercream. The next thing I knew, I felt the cool slide of frosting across my shoulder, followed quickly by his lazy tongue. "Mmmm, I think it's not enough."

He leaned back but kept his hips pinned against mine, grinding into me with his own version of flick and twist, while dragging the spatula down my spine.

With shaking hands, I put down the forgotten cake and grabbed the edge of the counter. I pushed back harder and leaned forward, feeling his hot breath on my skin as he licked and bit his way slowly along the trail of frosting.

"Mmm, so fucking good, baby. I love the way you taste, but this is even better.

"More," was all I was able to say.

"More?"

"Mmm." I pushed my hips back again, wiggling until he was wedged along the cleft of my ass, then grinding up and down. I liked the way my running shorts slid against my skin.

He picked up the spatula again, loading it with more frosting, and drew a shape on my back. Once I recognized it as a heart, I stood back up and twisted around enough for a kiss. He pulled me against him, and I felt the buttercream smear between us, leaving a sticky-sweet heart on both of us. He pushed me forward against the counter, and I slid the heavy mixer away, its hard rubber feet chattering loudly on the formica. He nudged the tray of cupcakes to the side, keeping them out of harm's way. This wasn't going to be tender and slow.

I rested my head on my crossed forearms and moaned when I felt him push my shorts down over my hips, letting them pool around my ankles. I kicked them aside when I heard the slow click of zipper teeth, and his breathing coming hard and fast. He sunk his teeth into my flank as he bent over to get rid of the jeans, and I couldn't help but moan at the sensation.

"You are so fucking hot standing there in nothing but that apron. Jesus, I want to fuck you right here."

"Do it."

"I plan to." He rubbed his cock all over my ass, dragging it slowly, playfully prodding where I wanted him most. He ran a finger through the smeared frosting heart on my back and sucked his fingers clean, leaving me aching at the wet sounds his lips made.

"Fuck, Edward. Don't tease me." I reached back with one hand and grabbed his hip.

"Shh. I got ya, babe." He stretched and reached for the olive oil decanter I kept near the stove. "Hold still."

I felt the cold trickle of oil at my tailbone, and his blunt cock head spreading it around.

"Fuck…"

"What was that?" he said, pausing with his cock pressed against my entrance.

"I said, FUCK, Edward. Jesus! Stop teas…"

"Like this?" he asked as he pushed forward, ending my complaint.

"Oooh, oh god yes."

He set a good, hard pace; not frantic, but not lazy, either. He held my cock in a loose over-hand grip, allowing our colliding bodies to provide what I needed to drive me rapidly to completion. All too soon, I was shouting his name, that familiar fire from within scorching my skin in waves.

"Edward! Oh!"

Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered the sound of a car in the drive, and the front door opening, but Edward's stream of orgasm-induced profanities blocked out everything else.

"Oh my fucking… Jasper, God! Shit! Fucking hell…" His body shuddered against me, hands tight and hard on my hips.

"Are you guys okay… what the… Jesus, guys!" Emmett's booming voice sounded from a few feet away, and I looked over my shoulder long enough to see Rose's face being pushed into his chest as Emmett turned away.

We couldn't help but laugh, breathless and still slightly dazed from our near-simultaneous climax.

"This is NOT funny, guys! God damn! That's _our_ kitchen too, ya know. Come on, Rose." I heard him stomping away, Rose giggling, and then the front door slamming.

Edward's forehead pressed between my shoulder blades and he dragged two fingers to press against my lips, silently telling me he loved me. I kissed them to complete the gesture, then sucked them into my mouth.

He laughed and took a slow step back, leaving me empty and chilled.

I stood and arched my back, stretching as we surveyed the damage: cupcakes less than a yard away, offset spatula on the floor, mixing bowl overturned, pink frosting smeared on both of us and the counter, olive oil spilled on the stove, clothes strewn everywhere, and both of us shiny with sweat.

I pulled him in for a hug, transferring the smeared buttercream heart on his chest to the front of my apron. "Well, shit. That was fun, aside from the little birthday gift to Rose."

"Eh, she's caught us before. It's Em I'm fucking worried about. We may never get him to step foot in this kitchen again."

I laughed. "And that's a bad thing because…?"

He nodded, smiling. Em was good at dishwashing and cooking on the grill, but that was about the extent of his kitchen skills. "Come on. We've probably got about an hour before they come back. I'd rather be napping when he gets here."

I pulled my shorts back on, and we started cleaning up, sneaking laughing kisses the whole time.

~x~x~x~

I kissed Rose goodnight and headed for our bedroom, hot on Edward's heels. I heard Em's laugh and something about frosting... I stopped and turned back just in time to catch him snaking his hand up under her shirt.

"The rest of the buttercream is in the fridge, if you're curious," I said, earning a couch pillow thrown at my head.

Edward's voice echoed down the hallway from our bedroom. "No it's not, Jas. It's in here."

_God, I love my man._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_

* * *

_

A/N not a lot of plot here, but some much-requested delicious fun for Jasper and Edward.

thanks so much for the prompt, Jess, and for giving me a firm nudge back to my Subtle boys. I hope you enjoyed this as much as E and J did! I know i certainly had a good time picturing it...

Thanks to all the lovely Twitter ladies who assisted with my research for this, including alternative uses for olive oil...

xoxox oh, and here's a truly beautiful piece of pictorial inspiration... NSFW

www DOT flickr DOT com/photos/8622063N04/2978998603/sizes/l/

...are you all reading The Diner?


	25. Cerulean

Tweeted by: (at)echoingsilence on 5/30/2010

Prompt: **Cerulean**

Pairing/POV: Emmett POV (Rosalie)

Rated: M

* * *

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.

.

I stepped into the shower and adjusted the temperature. With my back to the spray, I began to soap up. My body reacted as soon as thought of her, here, with me, on her knees and gazing up with eyes the color of…

Stroking up and down, I struggled for the word, imagining her hands, her mouth, her devilish smile, her wicked tongue and teeth…

Sapphire. Aquamarine. Turquoise. Sky.

Tug, twist. A handful of her conditioner intensified the moment, slippery and fragrant. Tug, twist.

Cornflower. Midnight. Periwinkle.

Tug, twist.

I came, moaning, imagining my beautiful wife's eyes locked on mine.

.

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* * *

it's only abt 3 mos overdue bb - hope you like. :)


	26. Sunflower

Tweeted by: (at)fiberkitty_ff on 5/20/2010

Prompt: **Sunflower**

Pairing/POV: Elizabeth Masen POV (Edward)

Rated: T

* * *

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.

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I heard the screen door slam for the hundredth time today and was glad my husband wasn't at home. He was a good father, patient and attentive, but firm, and not exactly forgiving when it came to roughly treated doors.

"Mamma, look!"

I turned away from my needlepoint and found my seven-year-old, green eyed angel grinning up at me, admiring a fist full of mangled flowers from the neighbor's yard, roots included, with a trail of dirt behind him.

"Oh, Teddy…"

"Aren't they beautiful? I picked 'em just for you!"

He thrust them toward me, and I had to smile.

.

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* * *

{{{hug}}} this drabble's only a few months overdue... xox


	27. Throat

Tweeted by: (at) Fardareismai2 on 6/15/2011

Prompt: **THROAT**

Pairing/POV: Alec/? (Alec POV)

Rated: M

The same scene, three ways. I couldn't decide how to write it, so you get three drabbles for the price of one. I picture a bobbing adam's apple...

* * *

.

.

~one~

With each quavering plea for mercy, I reveled in the weakening pulse beneath my lips and the struggling form captured within my arms. After each gloriously rich swallow, cold awareness crept up my spine. Amongst my ravenous companions, one held me in their gaze. I felt eyes upon me, and a bloom of warm arousal consumed me from within. My voyeur drew near, tenderly caressing my throat as my prey gave up the last drops of her life. The delicate scent of cloves betrayed him, and I smiled as Felix whispered in my ear.

"I love to watch you drink."

.

.

~two~

She begged for mercy, but her pulse on my lips was too good, her pointless struggling too empowering. I greedily swallowed her down as a cold tingle of awareness crept up my spine. The room was thick with the sounds of ravenous feeding, but I knew someone was watching me.

The warm gush of blood across my tongue weakened as my arousal grew. I was hungry for another flavor in my mouth, another scent besides dying human. Sweet spice betrayed my voyeur as he pressed himself to my back. Felix whispered in my ear, "I love to watch you drink."

.

.

~three~

A cacophony of guttural sounds fill the air, echoing off the ancient stone walls. Cries, pleas, and shrieks ring above struggling gasps, torn fabric, and ravenous grunting.

Through the fog of bloodlust, I feel the tingling awareness of eyes on me, devouring me as I take my meal.

Rich, viscous warmth coats my tongue with each relentless pull. Gulping, swallowing, I feel another body pressed to mine. The scent of sweet spice envelopes me. My lover grinds his needy arousal against me while my prey withers and dies.

His voice is heavy with desire. "I love to watch you drink."

.

.

* * *

i LOVE this prompt! xoxox


	28. Laundry, Lightning

Title: **Laundry and Lightning, by SubtlePen**  
Pairing: Bella/Edward  
Category: Sappy Sweet, rated not quite M  
Standalone or From Story: Stand Alone

Inspired by the following twitter prompt from rebekahwsm : rich boy finally kicked out on his ass. normal girl saves him from bleaching his darks. sex ensues.

* * *

**~Bella~**

I collapsed the handle and dragged my suitcase up onto the counter, blowing a stray hair out from between my eyes. I popped my earbuds out and shrugged my backpack down between my feet, tucking the tiny wires into a side pocket for safe keeping. Unzipping the overlarge case, I silently surveyed the room, simultaneously grateful and apprehensive at finding myself alone. The sounds around me told me I wouldn't be alone forever, though, and I wondered which of the other regulars would be joining me.

I dug into a corner of my backpack and pulled out a roll of quarters. I counted out enough for four loads, selected temperatures for each machine and shoved the slides forward. The sound of washers filling echoed around the room, adding a layer to the rhythmic noise of several dryers and tinny muzak.

I filled each machine with my presorted loads, added premeasured detergent from snack-sized zip bags, dribbled a little bleach into one from a reusable bottle, and closed the lids. I tucked my supplies away and clambered up on the table to read from my sociology textbook while the washers did their work.

A few pages later, a brief gust of fresh air cut the thick scent of fabric softener when the front door slammed open. I was surprised the plate glass didn't shatter.

"FUCK!" he screamed, stumbling over the cracked concrete threshold and barely catching himself from freefall onto the grimy laundromat floor.

My heart pounded in my throat, my face and fingers tingling with adrenalin from the shock of his startling entrance. He stood to his full height, his head hanging limp between his shoulders and fists clenching and unclenching at his side. I held my breath, wondering what the hell his problem was. He was tall and slender, like a distance runner, and was well dressed in expensive looking clothes and shoes, with a shock of too-long auburn hair hanging chaotically around a striking, angular face.

I must have gasped, because he looked up at me sharply, scowling. "What?" he demanded, hands on his hips, sounding defensive.

Fuck _that_. "Nothing! God. You just scared me, is all. Calm down."

He muttered under his breath something that I couldn't understand and muscled a military-sized duffle bag onto the table across from me. He went back out through the door to grab from the sidewalk, where he'd tripped before, a gallon bottle of bleach and box of laundry soap, big enough for a family of twelve. A corner of the box was crushed, and leaving a trail of white flakes across the floor. "Goddamned son of a…"

"STOP!"

He froze in his tracks, staring daggers right through me. "You're making an enormous mess, and the attendant won't be in to clean until late tomorrow. Here." I rummaged through the interior pockets on my suitcase and offered him a plastic shopping bag big enough to hold his detergent box.

He looked from the bag, to me, and back again with a puzzled expression.

"Put the box in it. At least you won't waste any more of your expensive soap."

"Oh. Right."

He reluctantly took the bag from my outstretched fingertips without another word, and clumsily stuffed the box into it, muttering obscenities all the while.

"Asshole," I mumbled, settling back onto the table with my book in my lap.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head snap up, then tilt, his eyes heavy and sad. "Sorry. Thanks."

I nodded silently, keeping a subtle eye on his actions as he began to pour bleach and too much soap into the washer closest to mine.

He opened his duffle and dumped it onto the floor, scattering jeans and shirts and linens and socks and underwear in a huge mishmash pile at his feet. He pulled out several pair of artfully distressed and very expensive jeans, and I had to stop him just as he started to put them in the washer.

"Don't!"

"What?" he asked, whining and annoyed.

"You just dumped enough bleach in there to send those jeans back to the eighties."

"Hunh?"

"Unless you want to look like something from a WHAM! concert, I suggest you save that washer for your whites."

"Oh. You don't bleach jeans?"

"Not with that," I said, gesturing toward his Clorox. "That's for whites – sheets, socks, towels, underwear. Whites."

"Great. Okay." He started fishing through the pile, pulling out anything white, which didn't amount to much. "Like these?"

I nodded. "Yep."

"Okay." He scratched his hand through his messy mop of hair, pushing one foot through the rest of the pile, eyeballing me. "So…"

"Let me guess. Mama's boy? Never had to do your own wash? Girlfriend kick you out?"

"No," he said, with a childish smirk.

I raised my brows, waiting.

"Pissed off my brother. He took our car home for the weekend without me, refused to take my laundry with him. Accused me of being an incompetent brat. He's an ass."

It took every ounce of control to hold back my laughter. I simply nodded, holding my fingers tightly over my lips.

Finally, he quietly acquiesced, roughly toeing through his laundry. "But apparently, he's right."

Minus the defensive attitude, he was adorable.

I watched him begin to sort his clothes, offering a little advice now and then, which he seemed to genuinely appreciate. I moved my clothes from washers to dryers and caught him watching me fold bras, peering up through his lashes while fiddling with his mp3 player, ears turning pink.

Absolutely adorable.

Forty-five minutes later, I loaded up my suitcase and left, offering a little wave as he awkwardly stood by the door and let me walk away.

A cold tingle clung to the back of my neck like fingers, and I wondered if it was because he watched me walk up the street. I wasn't brave enough to turn back and look, in case he hadn't.

**~Edward~**

I watched her walk away, and felt an odd twinge in my chest, and my feet twitched to follow her.

I didn't.

**~Bella~**

I stumbled through the laundromat door a week later, tripping over the same cracked stoop he had. It made me smile to remember. I pushed my hair out of my face and saw him standing there, hands once more full of dirty jeans, with his mouth hanging open and a slow smile overtaking a look of surprise. I had a feeling our grins matched.

"Hey," I said. "Pissed off your brother again?"

He laughed and shook his head, shoving his jeans into a washer. "Nah. He inspired me to pursue greater self-reliance."

I nodded, smiling, taking up a spot beside him with my suitcase full of laundry. "Self-reliance is good. So is knowing when to ask for help."

He bumped my hip with his. "Yeah. It's good when you're lucky enough to ask the right person, too."

I looked up to him then, and his cheeks were mottled pink as he made enormous effort to sort his whites from his colors.

After a few minutes, during which he gallantly averted his eyes from my load of delicates and underwear, he finally spoke. "What's your name?"

**~Edward~**

"Bella," she said. "Bella Swan."

I raised my eyebrows, fighting the response that leapt to mind. _Seriously? Beautiful swan?_

She rolled her eyes. "I know, I know."

I was glad I held my tongue.

**~Bella~**

Two weeks later, Edward brought me McDonald's, and we talked for hours, long after our laundry was dry.

"So, there I am, getting ready for prom, while my dad cleans his shotgun in front of my date. I was surprised he had the courage to kiss me goodnight!"

"I don't know, Bella. I still think headgear, acne and coke-bottle glasses trump the embarrassment of having the local sheriff for a dad."

I scoffed, laughing. "I still can't picture you like that. I may need to see evidence."

He rolled his eyes at me. "I'm still that kid, Bella. I may have straight teeth, clear skin and contacts now, but inside I'm mostly still that awkward, moody, helpless kid. I feel like that's all anyone ever sees. I'm lucky my sister has the sense to dress me well, or you probably wouldn't even be sitting here now."

I locked my eyes on his. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing." He moved to stand up, but my hand on his knee froze him in place.

"Edward that's not…"

His shoulders sagged. "Look, Bella…"

Just then, a loud crack of thunder startled us both, and the lights flickered. It made me jump, and his hands immediately covered mine. Apparently, a storm had rolled in while we wiled away the evening with small talk.

"Jesus!"

"Well, shit. Looks like it's gonna be a wet walk home."

"I can drive you. I have my truck," I offered.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Finally got it back from the shop."

"You don't mind?"

"Edward, you live like two blocks past me, right? No, I don't mind."

"Okay. Let's go then."

We finished packing up our bags and barely managed to get to my truck before the deluge started. Just as we drove past my building, another bright flash of lightning, too close for thunder, momentarily blinded me. I blinked, and the entire street had gone dark.

"Shit," I muttered, looking over my shoulder at my dark apartment.

"You have candles or something at home?"

"Yeah, I just get really creeped out when the power is out."

"Oh. You'll be fine, I'm sure. Right?"

"Sure," I muttered. I didn't sound very convincing, even to me.

Another long flash of lightning, this time accompanied by enormous thunder, made me shriek. My hands shook on the steering wheel as I pulled up in front of the house he rented with his brother. I looked over at him, hating to let him leave. It felt like we'd been on the brink of something back at the laundromat, and I _really_ didn't want to be alone during this storm.

"Okay, well, thanks for the lift. I guess I'll see you next Friday. Laundry day and all…"

"You wanna come back to my place?" The words tumbled out of my mouth and I cringed afterwards, feeling like a pushy whore. "I mean, you know, to talk. And stuff. 'Cause we were talking… before, and 'cause I really hate storms, and with the power out I just…"

He cut me off. "Um, yeah. Sure. I can do that. I'd like that. Definitely. We could talk more."

I let out a deep breath, tightening my shaking hands on the steering wheel. "Okay. Cool." Another round of thunder and lightning made me jump.

"Whoa, hey." I felt his warm hand on my shoulder. "You're really not good with storms, are you?"

I shrugged with a forced smile, and pulled a u-turn to head back to my apartment.

**~Edward~**

We parked in front of the converted old Victorian, barely able to see the darkened front door through the sheeting rain.

She fumbled in the glove box and brandished a wicked looking Mag-lite, probably courtesy of her sheriff father. "I'll get the door if you'll carry my laundry? You can leave yours in here if you want, and I'll drive you home later."

"Okay. On three?"

She nodded, eyes wary.

"One… two…"

"Three!" she yelled, jumping out of the truck while I struggled to wrangle her laundry and the truck door at the same time. She had to fiddle with the sticky front door lock, while the rain soaked us both to the skin. We scrambled through the doorway laughing and grumbling, looking like a pair of dishrags. She clicked on the flashlight and led me up the stairs.

"My apartment's up here. It's a great old house, kind of a shame they chopped it up into apartments."

We reached her door, and she had to fumble with her keys again, juggling the enormous flashlight and her backpack. "Here we go. Come on in." She opened the door and pushed it aside, ushering me in ahead of her.

"No, you go," I said. "I don't know where I'm going and you have the light."

"Oh, yeah. Right." She walked in and automatically turned to the right to flip on a light switch, which of course didn't work.

"Shit. That was dumb."

I had to laugh.

**~Bella~**

I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity, glad he couldn't see my blush. He was here, _in my apartment_, after weeks of laundry, innuendo and half-assed flirting. Here, where I had dreamed about cooking for him, watching movies with him, doing stupid _nothing_ with him, and it had taken the mother of all thunderstorms to loosen my lips.

I told him to just drop the laundry anywhere, and left him standing in the dark while I went to the bathroom for towels. I came back with three towels and two battery-operated lanterns, which seemed to surprise him. I tossed one of the towels over my shoulder, handed him the second, and dropped the third by the door, where I kicked off my shoes and encouraged him to do the same.

"Camp much?" he asked as I lit the lanterns.

"Worked two summers at a sporting goods and outdoor store," I shrugged. "They're handy."

He nodded, shivering, draping the towel around his neck like a cape.

"Oh, Edward! You're freezing!" I took the towel off my shoulder and stepped closer, wrapping it around his head, scrubbing it through his hair and then gently across his face. He hummed and leaned into my hands, but continued to shiver.

"C'mon." I dragged him toward my room. "I can give you something dry to wear before you freeze to death."

He followed me somewhat reluctantly, and stood stock still beside my bed while I rummaged through the back of my closet for something that might fit. I came up with a pair of my 'fat day' sweat pants, which would probably look like capris on him, and an oversized tee shirt I'd stolen from my dad.

"Here." I started to hand him the clothes and walk away, but he just stood there, locked in place and staring after me. I turned back to him and finished rubbing the towel through his hair, then began to tug his shirt up over his head. He let me, standing like a small boy needing to be tended, while I fussed and cooed over him, trying to warm him up. I vigorously rubbed the his towel over his shoulders and chest, standing close and mumbling nonsense about goose bumps and pneumonia, when I realized his hands had slowly crept up my back and begun to do the same for me.

I stopped instantly.

I felt his warm, shaking breath in my ear as his hands worked the towel through my hair, gently squeezing the water out. I leaned toward him just until my cheek grazed his jaw, and his breath caught. I thought I heard him whisper my name, so I whispered his in return.

When I felt his fingertips graze the skin of my waist, the only other sounds in the room were that of rain and wind, the creaking of the old oak outside my window, and the low rumble of receding thunder.

He lifted the hem of my sopping shirt, and I lifted my arms in encouragement as he mumbled back to me my own words about goose bumps and pneumonia.

I think I heard my shirt hit the floor with a wet plop, but was more focused on his arms around me; steel bars holding me to him, immovable from shoulder to hip as I felt my body surrender and sag against him with a sigh. His skin was cool and damp, but rapidly warming as my hands explored his back and arms.

"Edward…"

His lips silenced mine with an insistent kiss that mellowed into hesitant tenderness as he second-guessed the bold move.

"Oh, Bella… I don't know how to do any of this." He pressed his forehead into the crook of my neck, holding me tightly.

"Sure you do," I comforted.

"No, Bella. I don't. There's never been… no one has ever…"

"Shhh. Do you want…?"

"So much, Bella. You're all I think about. Fridays at that damned laundromat. Every day, I wish was Friday."

"Then don't worry about it. Just be here, with me. I want whatever you want, and I don't care what you have or haven't…"

He kissed me again, sweet and slow, gently pushing for more, but never demanding, never rushing to whatever came next. We fell to my bed, clumsily kicking aside the rest of our wet clothes, laughing at ourselves, nervous and eager. His lips and hands were so strong and gentle, ready to learn and try, willing to take what was offered, and finally unafraid to take and claim. He was shy with his own body at first, but as he listened to my words and felt the way my body responded, I think he began to believe. He was beautiful.

Hours later, the storm long since passed, we settled into a happy tangle of warm skin and loose limbs. Sated and silly, and suddenly bashful, he curled into my side, hiding his face.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Stroking his cheek and encouraging him to look up, I asked him "what for?"

"Always taking care of me. Since the first time we met… and tonight. I'm not very…"

"Hey. I don't want to talk about what either of us _isn't_. What matters is what we _are_, and that's here, right now, together. Right? Besides, you take care of me, too."

He smiled and quietly agreed. "I really liked that you needed me tonight."

"For more than just the storm, Edward. And not just tonight. For everything. Always. Fridays aren't enough for me, either."

He kissed me, softly, with the promise of more right behind it as his body began to move against mine once more. "Yeah?"

I sighed, moving to take him in again, right where he belonged. "Yeah."

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I'm cleaning out my fic folders and posting things I've written as gifts or previously posted elsewhere. This was originally written for the Friday Free For All on twilighted back in December 2010.

Enjoy!


	29. In Our Arms

this is an October, 2010 birthday drabble ficlet i wrote for my beautiful friend, Arcadian Maggie, that i just recently found on my recovered hard drive. posted here with her gracious permission.

drabbles: Tendril, Courage, Cover, Surrender, Belong

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**"In our Arms"**

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**TENDRIL**

She dampened the template and lifted it away, pleased with her work. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the burn, on the rhythmic etching of my skin, the harsh stop and start of the buzzing motor. She wiped away the excess ink, and I watched the blood seep and pool on my wrist while she mixed another color.

"You ready?"

I nodded, smiling.

"It complements the other nicely, I think," she said.

I agreed, admiring the tattoo on my other arm. Edward, it said, in an abstract graffiti script. The new work, in organic art nouveau tendrils, spelled Maggie.

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**COURAGE**

She and Edward knew each other in childhood, but lost track. We ran into her socially one evening, and the way she embraced him eclipsed merely remembering a childhood friend. The fire in her eyes when they met mine left me reeling.

It had been years since I felt that instant sizzle with anyone but Edward, and never with a woman. She dazzled me. It took us three months to invite her to our bed, and another for her to muster the courage.

A happy coincidence, running into an old friend, changed all our lives forever. We've never looked back.

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**COVER**

We sat down to dinner, dressed to the nines for her birthday. She sat between us, happily accepting our affections throughout the night, returning our little kisses and caresses here and there. I would nibble her neck, and Edward would sneak his hand under the hem of her skirt. We tried to be discreet, but I think anyone with half a brain would see a trio, crazy in love with each other.

I tugged my cuff down gingerly over the gauze, but she noticed. A twinkle in her eye told me she'd already guessed, but I pretended not to notice.

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**SURRENDER**

He slapped me on the ass, and I kissed him over my shoulder. Beneath me, Maggie gasped, shallow and desperate. The syllables of my name stuttered in time with my body piercing hers.

"Jas… Jasper…"

I was hurtling toward my climax from the overwhelming sensations of my two lovers surrounding and consuming me. Our heavy breaths and the musk of sweaty sex drove everything from my mind except the sensation of Edward's powerful hips driving me deeper into her searing heat. After just a few more moments, I let it take me, surrendering again to the bright flame of bliss.

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**BELONG**

We lay in a tangled pile of weak limbs and wandering hands, breathless and dizzy, kissing whatever skin was closest. I felt cautious fingertips plucking at my bandage and smiled, surprised she'd waited this long. I propped myself up, with Edward's head tucked against my side, and peered up at her, grinning. His wrists were already marked with my name, and hers. We should have done it together.

She didn't speak, but gently cradled my hand. I kissed away a shimmering tear, and she nodded, beaming.

"You'll always have a place in my arms," I said. "Happy birthday, sweet Maggie."

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i miss writing my boys! xox


	30. Orange

i wrote this for my friend Kassiah's birthday in November of 2010, and is uploaded with her gracious permission. xox

edward/jasper

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**"Orange"**

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I checked the scarf once more, ensuring he couldn't see. He laughed nervously, reaching for me, but I tucked his hands at his sides.

"Lay still."

"Okay," he whispered. "For now."

I watched his head tilt and turn, listening for clues as I pulled the cloth away from the tray of surprises on my bedside table.

"First one," I said, dabbing my fingertip against his mouth.

"Mmm. Syrup. Maple syrup." His tongue peeked out to get every drop.

"Very good." His correct guess earned him a slow kiss. "Now try this." I trailed a slice of kiwi along his lips, letting it linger long enough for him to dare a tiny bite.

"Oh, that's strawb… no, it's kiwi. Right?" He took a larger taste of the piece I held, and smiled. "Definitely kiwi."

I bent down and kissed him again, tasting the odd combination of kiwi and maple. "Two for two, Whitlock. Now try this." I knew he would recognize the scent before he ever tasted it, but I still dragged it across his lips, teasing him with it, pulling it just out of reach when leaned up for more, squeezing it slowly so that random drips landed on his face and neck.

"Edward…" His deep voice offered a thinly veiled threat.

"Yes, my love?" I placed the wedge of fruit in my mouth and loudly sucked out the juice, knowing the sound would drive him wild.

In an instant, I was pinned on my back. The tray of fruit crashed to the floor, and he was using the black silk blindfolded to bind my wrists. His powerful legs held mine to the bed. "You are an evil, dirty tease."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I said, watching him stand. He turned to look for something and, as soon as he found it, I knew I was in trouble. In each hand, he had a fist full of orange wedges.

He held up one and examined it, smelling it, delicately touching it with the tip of his tongue. "Mmm. Sweet."

"Jas…"

He flipped his hand over and squeezed the wedge, drizzling sticky droplets all over my chest. I knew what was coming. He began to lick, starting with my belly, working his way up my sternum and across each pec, slurping up every bit of juice, nibbling at my skin, leaving a sloppy wet trail.

He squeezed another wedge over my neck, and his lips attacked my throat. I was dizzy from the sensation of his mouth on my Adam's apple, and the erotic scent of oranges in the air. I writhed beneath him, trying to get him to move, wanting his weight over me, wanting his kisses.

"Baby, please…"

He reached up and quickly untied the scarf, and my hands were instantly in his hair, pulling his face to mine. He tasted so good – oranges and sweetness. He pulled back, holding me down with one hand, brandishing one final orange wedge in the other. He looked me in the eye, then down to my ridiculously hard cock, and laughed. He squeezed until his knuckles turned white.

"Oh, fuck, Jas…"

The cold juice dripped along my length, down between my balls to my ass.

I didn't have to wait long for him to do something about it….

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hee hee!


	31. Naelany's 2010 birthday drabbles

These are three unrelated 6-drabble ficlets I wrote for one of my favorite authors and friends, Naelany.

With her permission, I'm posting them here for you to enjoy.

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_**Drabble prompts courtesy of miztrezboo: slide, black, fluid, space, berry, quiet **_

**Quiet**

I tiptoe to our bedroom, later than I expected. I scrub my towel through my wet hair once more, my eyes never leaving his sleeping form. Standing at the window, I watch him breathe, slow and even. A quiet calm settles over me like the blanket of blue moonlight that caresses his skin. I lie down at his side, gently aligning our bodies. He sighs, and leans back against me, smelling like warmth and comfort.

"You're home," he mutters through sleepy lips.

"Shhh." I kiss his neck, his shoulder, his palm when it reaches back to touch my face. "Shhh."  
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**Space**

"Missed you, so much," he whispers, burrowing closer.

"I'm home for a while, now. No more trips until fall. You should sleep."

He rolls to face me, his hands and lips expressing their lusty hellos. "Don't wanna sleep."

He presses me back, covering me with his weight and heat, eliminating every millimeter between us. My hands are hungry, travel exhaustion seeping away with every touch.

"Need you," he murmurs. "So empty without you." His words are a breathy moan against my skin.

My desire matches his, hard and hot between us. "Yes."

"Fill me," he begs, and I happily comply.  
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**Slide**

Our bodies grind and glide in a primal call and response, this, here, more, now, each urging the other toward a familiar culmination. Hot breath and slick sweat drive our anticipation, changing us from two bodies into one writhing entity.

We reach, we chase, we retreat.

We give, we take, we watch.

Climbing, desperate, we summit and fall. Blissful, sweet, melancholy at the fleeting nature of oblivion. It began and, too soon, slips away, leaving us breathless and sated.

Our bodies slide apart, yet we are still full, renewed and alive with love as we drift, clinging to each other.  
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**Berry**

"I love you," he kisses.

"I love you," I sigh.

I push damp, moonlit curls back from his face, admiring his sex-drowsy eyes and berry-pink mouth. He presses his cheek into my palm and hums. I taste his lips, warm and plump from rough, needful kissing, my tongue fascinated with the sweet fatness of them. His playful response is to lick mine in return, and I laugh. My need reawakens. I am eager to taste his tartness and salt, to consume and be consumed. Once is never enough in our bed, in his arms. Twice… thrice… never enough.

Never enough.  
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**Fluid**

Hot water cascades over our bodies. A lone candle flame flickers through the rippled glass door as we wash away the residue of our passionate reunion. The intimacy of this ritual doesn't mark the end of our lovemaking, but a seamless continuation. We touch and caress and remember, cataloging new love bites and delicious aches, slippery and happy. I kiss the shaving nick on his chin, he massages muscles where I carry the stress of travel. I hold him to me, precious, amazed even after all the years we've shared, at how we fit, how we balance, how we flow.  
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**Black**

We arrange ourselves – pillows, sheets, arms, legs, heads – into a tangle of warm comfort. Skin fresh and damp from our shower, bodies limp and sleepy, hearts loved and loving. We kiss a few soft hellos and goodbyes, making up for the ones we've missed, calling an end to the alone and sending it on its way. We yawn and sigh, the house creaks, and I hear wind in the tree outside our window. I shift, he compensates. Repeat. Another soft, reassuring kiss, or two, or three. We agree that tomorrow will have no agenda whatsoever, and we close our eyes.

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_**Drabble prompts courtesy of einfach_mich: glimmer, cut, cotton, steel, shimmer, cascade.**_

**Shimmer**

Sweat trickled down my bare back, saturating the waistband of my shorts and offering no relief from the day's sweltering heat. I pulled a faded bandana from my pocket and mopped it across my face and neck. I stood with my hands on my hips, praying for a breeze, surveying my handiwork and the pile of weeds behind me. My gathering basket was full – tomatoes, cucumbers, corn – and my thoughts were already on the evening's meal. I put the basket on the back porch and looked over our garden, heat rippling in waves from the roof of the garden shed.  
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**Cotton**

I washed the vegetables and picked through the herbs I'd pulled that morning, planning a light menu for the grill. I was running out of time. White wine chilling, chicken marinating, and me – filthy and smelling like hell.

I ran a tepid shower, cool enough to refresh but still sooth my aching muscles. I rested briefly on our bed, on fresh, crisp sheets, air drying under the steady hum of the ceiling fan he couldn't live without.

I dressed in a pair of thin pants and a simple shirt, something he liked, and went back to work in my kitchen.  
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**Steel**

I heard the throaty voice of his panhead Harley rumbling nearer, and my pulse kicked up a notch. I scanned the kitchen and back porch one last time, mentally checking off my preparations, before racing to the front door. I got there just in time to see him swing his leg over, and I hardened at the sight of him in his leathers. He unzipped the chaps along the length of his muscled legs, and strode toward me.

"Have a good ride?"

He smiled and kissed me deeply, warm steel tickling my tongue. He palmed my ass and I moaned.  
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**Glimmer**

The late afternoon sun bounced off the water droplets that fell on his shoulders, his too-long auburn hair curling at his neck. One hand on my hip, he handed me a glass of wine and watched me turn the meat one final time. We ate on the porch, listening to cicadas and frogs sing their evening song, a suggestive smile on his lips.

"What's for dessert?"

"Maybe… me."

He licked his lips, and they shone in the twilight. "My favorite."

A bloom of heat colored my face as I pictured being devoured. His eyes twinkled when he laughed at me.  
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**Cut**

He pushed me up against the bed and toppled with me, licking, biting, sucking, grinding. I loved the firm strength of his hands, the need expressed, the confident pleasure given. His wet lips and hard fingers traced every dip and curve of my body, hard places, ticklish places, hungry places.

He memorized the delineation of every muscle, praised my beauty, making worthwhile the hours it took to sculpt my body. Tonight I was his to mold, and I cherished every moment, giving everything he asked of me, bending to his will, dizzy and breathless as he kept me on edge.  
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**Cascade**

Finally, finally, he gave in, letting us tumble and soar, our quivering bodies awash in a bright bloom of heat radiating from within. I gasped and twitched with aftershocks as he shouted through his release. Oaths and obscenities echoed around us, followed by my name on his lips, with gratitude.

"Jasper… Oh, Jasper…"

I pulled a blanket over us as our sweaty bodies cooled, resting my head where I could listen to his heart, thudding, even and constant. My lullaby.

"I love you," he whispered, half asleep, absently scratching and shifting to get comfortable.

I smiled, content. "Happy Birthday, baby."

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_**Drabble prompts courtesy of 1lavishone: steam, wet grass, doing the dishes, just a smile, fruit salad, bowling**_

**Bowling**

I trip over something in the hallway and hop on one foot, cursing and cradling my injured toes. Taking a deep breath, I look down and discover his bowling bag and shoes, two feet from the closet where they belong. He'd gone out last night for a little beer and brotherly camaraderie and, from the score sheet in his bag, it looks like he had a great night until the beer kicked in. I wonder how much it cost his manly pride to lose, again, to his not-so-little brother, Emmett.

I rub my foot and smile, putting the bag away.  
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**Steam**

I climb the stairs, fresh coffee in both my hands, and I hear the shower. Sneaking in, I tap on the foggy glass door. He pokes his head out and takes a mug from my hands, sipping gingerly and grinning. I sip mine, eyeing him up and down, soapy and half-hard, and I think I've interrupted something fun. I resist the urge to join him. The good morning peck I plant on his lips turns into something more and, before I know it, I'm half soaked, fully hard, and laughing. Our breakfast can wait just a while longer, I decide.  
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**Wet Grass**

I sweep the porch and watch our son earn his allowance. The sound of the engine and the smell of fresh-mown grass does something every time, reminding me of my own childhood summers, my father's ice water jug, my mother in gardening gloves. Edward joins me, rubbing a shop rag over his hands and smelling like motor oil, and we watch Jacob finish his Saturday morning chore. The engine runs out of gas two-thirds of the way through his last pass across the back yard.

I wave off the fit he's about to throw, and offer to finish for him.  
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**Fruit Salad**

Libby is busy working on our dinner, roasting herbed chicken, tossing my favorite apples with yogurt and whatever else she brought back from the farmer's market this morning. The four of us sit down together, bow our heads in thanks, and enjoy an increasingly rare family meal. Edward and I share a look that says it all – twenty years have passed quickly. Simple things now resonate as the most important; a meal, a prayer, shared laughter, a warm embrace.

Too soon, Libby's off to spend the night with a friend, and Jake heads out to a movie with his cousins.  
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**Doing the Dishes**

Jake cleared the table in gratitude for my help with the lawn. Libby was very efficient, limiting the cleanup to just a few pots and pans, plus our dishes. I turn on some music and open a bottle of wine once the kids are gone, and the mood of the evening changes. Edward washes, I dry. He takes every opportunity to douse me with the sprayer, and I retaliate with bubbles on his glasses. Before long, we've abandoned our wet clothes and he's bent over my kitchen island, moaning _Jasper_.

With kids, you take advantage of opportunities when they arise.  
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**Just a Smile**

He turns out lights as I check doors. I leave the porch light on for Jake, and take a moment to glance at the family pictures in the hallway. Edward and I, tuxedoed and beaming, at our commitment ceremony. My sister, our surrogate, round with the twins. First days of school, vacations, pets long since passed. He holds my hand and kisses me, leading me to our room, our bed. I follow him, as I always have. We lay together, warm and close, sharing kisses and familiar, wordless touches in the darkness.

Moonlight illuminates his smile, and that says everything.

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thank you for reading!


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